


Parallel City

by JackieSBlake7



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7219882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackieSBlake7/pseuds/JackieSBlake7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vila and Avon are hiding in the last place the Federation authorities would look for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel City

‘I am Vila Restal and I have come to see Kerr Avon.’ The computer in the reception area flickered to itself for a few moments.  
A trail of green lights appeared at his feet. As always the slight sense of relief that he had not, somehow, for some reason not understood, been excluded from this place.  
‘Thank you,’ Vila said – it usually paid to be polite, even to machines – and followed the lights into the computer system. Even someone as used to navigating the domed cities, or the corridors of the Liberator and other spaceships as he was, would have had difficulties in orientating here without such guidance. There were vast arrays of near identical computer units arranged in a maze of “corridors,” occasionally widening out into “rooms” where there were desk and monitors glowing into faint life, as if inviting him to make use of them, fading again as he went past. There were occasional actual dividing walls and stairs or ladders to levels above and below. Around him lights flickered and there were faint whirrs. Vila had the sensation that the whole place was alive in the sense that Orac was, and Zen and Slave had been, and that perhaps here the humans were the outsiders.  
This place had been Central Control’s somewhat simpler predecessor on Earth: it had served various functions thereafter, being developed to take on an increased role since Star One’s destruction. Unless, Vila thought, Star One had been another bluff much as Central Control had been. There had to have been some back up system – or how else would the Federation have regained control to such an extent so fast after Star One’s destruction? But did the statement that they were in charge mean that they could exert control? There were, from what Vila understood, many compromises – the Federation might be weaker than its administration actually thought.  
Distant voices sounded: Vila could make out nothing of what was said, only that they were unfamiliar. If he tried to find them without due cause, he would be lost within moments. A violet trail crossed his own – it might belong to those he heard, but if he tried to follow, he knew he would be thrown back to whence he came, and would have great difficulty in re-entering the system. He, and Avon, were protected by the same process.

*It had been a strange path from Gauda Prime to here. Not that anybody knew that the Xenon group had gone there, or what had happened to them since.  
The leader of the Federation troopers had decided that Blake’s base would serve them, and ordered the injured rebels – he had called them all bounty hunters – to be disposed of outside the base with orders to leave and not bother the forces of order. Vila and Avon had been dumped coincidentally near to where Orac had been hidden.  
Orac had found them a serviceable ship, they had retrieved everything useful – including, at Vila’s insistence, Slave’s entire programming – from the Scorpio. Slave did have its uses, and Vila still felt slightly guilty over Zen’s death. Orac had then “rearranged” their identities in the computer records so that they were security experts without any obvious rebel connections, and suggested that the safest place for them to hide for the moment had been surprising and yet somehow logical – Earth itself.*

The trail of lights turned red ahead of him, at a crossway, and Vila, following a convention that Orac had claimed was ancient to the point that it had existed before computers had come into existence, paused. The roboticised train of trolleys which appeared within moments followed its own preset route across his, resuming his journey when the lights reverted to green.

The lights came to an end, though the computer-unit lined corridor had not. There would be only one way now to go.

The pathway led to a “room” larger than most that Vila had passed through. He saw Avon at a consol – fast asleep, but stirring at the noise of footsteps – long experience of rebel activity. Vila used the few moments while Avon awoke to look around. The units here were larger than most, and all facing inwards. Several of the monitors were active – Vila recognised his own path on one of them.  
‘Why are you here?’ Curiosity, not accusatory. ‘Wondering if I had escaped?’ Always the need to know that he had the opportunity to leave, even if he never pursued it.  
‘I trust you to at least say goodbye,’ Vila replied with a smile.  
‘Trust … can be dangerous.’  
‘I hadn’t seen you for a couple of days… I wondered what had happened to you.’  
‘As before – rearranging the system so that it will produce a political system that is generally considered more agreeable… among other things.’  
Vila looked around as the computers whirred. ‘Do you ever get the feeling that this system is as much alive as Orac or Zen or Slave? Wonder what it thinks of us.’  
‘You and me, or humanity in general?’  
Vila enjoyed these moments of friendship. ‘Both…’  
‘Orac is generally curious, and we,’ humans and others, ‘have constructed computers – so one can extrapolate – given that most we encountered were cooperative or neutral.’ As good an answer as they were likely to think of.  
‘How are your plans and researches going?’  
‘While I was at Blake’s beck and call I wanted something like this. Now… I am not a rebel, never was…’ A familiar litany, said more for form.  
‘Could have fooled me some of the time back then. Or was it more that you decided nobody would fault you on the job that had been passed to you?’  
Avon nodded, accepting the definition. ‘Perhaps. I have almost finished what we decided to do, and it was more interesting than at least some of the alternatives. Well, I cannot draw attention to us here …’ The intent was to get the computers to “redirect” the Federation into a more palatable path.  
‘Fifth columnist. Destroying the system from within…’  
‘Where did you come across that?’  
‘Read about it somewhere. Objects are not the only thing I acquire from others.’ Including, Vila thought, Avon’s friendship. ‘Perhaps it is time to leave for… elsewhere.’  
‘To do what?’  
‘The same sort of things as now … Earth is no longer home. I think we both enjoy having goals and challenges such as we had on the Liberator and Xenon, rather than “just the next job and the one after that” until we retire.’  
Avon indicated assent. ‘We consider the options.’  
Vila decided to explore an idea. ‘Was Blake the best leader to overthrow the Federation?’  
‘Explain yourself,’ Avon replied, seemingly slightly disconcerted.  
‘I meant what did he achieve for the rebellion? Ignoring Star One and the Andromedan invasion, what did he do – as a long term plan? We helped many people of course, caused a certain amount of disruption, and went to some interesting places but…’  
‘He provided a rallying cry for the rebels. Have you left his cause at last?’ Vila could sense Avon’s disappointment if he had.  
‘No … just wondering generally, and how we will be remembered – and what Blake deserves or would wish to be remembered for.’  
‘Some of the rebels we knew are fading from the collective memory. Eventually even we will be forgotten, to be replaced by others. What I’d expect… but I regret it. Strange that,’ Avon admitted.  
‘For a little while we thought we had the chance of changing everything and being remembered for that. But you can’t always tell which stone falling caused the avalanche.’  
‘Poetic, Vila,’ Avon said with a smile. ‘Where are your thoughts going?’ Avon had often valued Vila’s opinions more than he chose to admit   
‘There will always be rebels, whatever the system. Even when the Federation’s worst aspects are got rid of there’d be people like you seeing what can be done, like Blake going for the intellectual challenge of opposing the system, or seeing how alternatives might work or be promoted.’ Vila knew Avon would agree to this definition of his role. ‘Even people like Belkov and Krantor.’  
‘Yes. Well?’  
‘We tried, and we did achieve something positive, several things even, between us, whatever all our motives were.’  
‘Minor successes. We failed, and we will be forgotten, like all the others.’  
‘The changeover will involve many people – and I don’t think any of the group or the other rebels were natural rulers. The most we can hope for is a few entries in the history book and helping the wider rebel movement achieve success however defined. And from what you’ve shown me the Federation’s broke, persisting more because nobody’s sat down and looked at what’s making the whole thing run.’ The numbers involved had been *very large* but remove the zeros and the maths was basic. ‘If they took less of a cut for themselves, and spent the money on things that proved profitable rather than expensive baubles and suppressant drugs and similar, there wouldn’t be so many outlays – as far as I can see.’  
‘I agree to the latter statements, and hold judgement on the earlier ones.’  
‘Whatever happens, it is not in our interests to be skulking around here in the Federation’s computer systems when things do change, which will probably happen all of a sudden and involve far more than we expect.’ Such was Vila’s experience in other contexts. ‘Whatever we do, we arrange to be in the good books of whoever takes charge.’  
‘You can talk sense when you want to.’ There was malice in Avon’s voice for form’s sake and habit.  
‘If you’d listen to me there’d be more. Well, we make arrangements to leave, and get out before everything happens.’  
‘So – enlightened self-interest: we go elsewhere, continue our profitable present activities and help the rebels in some way while we do so. We make use of Orac to increase the odds in our favour in all aspects of the several pursuits.’ They had legitimate work to cover their costs and explain their presence on Earth.  
‘Your logic is valid as far as it goes,’ Orac said.  
‘No doubt your plan is more detailed, but are we in agreement?’  
‘For the time being.’  
‘One other thing. I know you got Orac to confuse the information about what happened on Gauda Prime, but it’s surprising that Blake has never been formally declared dead. Why didn’t Servalan do so after whatever happened on Jevron – it’d have saved the Federation a lot of bother.’ Vila knew that Avon had come to terms with what had happened at Blake’s base. It was not clear whether the others of the group were alive or dead.  
‘Because if they had, Vila, people might have noticed that the Federation was nothing more than shadows and violence, needing opponents to justify that, and started looking at people who could do something practical, as you would put it – and other figures would emerge who couldn’t be controlled. I was chasing a dream – Blake’s dream. Now it is time to pursue my own dream.’ Avon smiled. ‘See, Blake has had his revenge after all. I am no rebel, but I will work with them.’  
‘We know some of the rebels, agree with several of their ideas, and can do business with them. And it can be interesting discussing things with them. And that, Avon, is why we both stayed with the course Blake set us on.’  
‘Perhaps you are right. So now we have to decide what we will do next.’  
‘Avon what is your dream?’  
Avon had to think. ‘Not Blake’s. I miss him,’ he gave Vila an almost embarrassed look, and Vila nodded in understanding, ‘and I regret shooting him.’  
‘If Blake survived – we’ll make him understand. If he died, we’ll do something for his memory.’  
‘I want our… business relationship to continue, and to explore, without the Federation to worry about.’  
There were, Vila recognised, far more important things than resolving the ambiguity in that statement.  
‘That is my goal too.’

Orac stated that all its researches on Earth had been dealt with, and agreed to aid their intents. The planet that Orac found Vila and Avon fitted their requirements. Its main industries and exports were technology, light industrial and luxury goods. There were contacts with the rebels, sufficient to make it clear that they were still cooperating with them – Orac was capable of communicating relevant information without yielding locations, though there were some actual contacts.  
Vila began collecting stories about the rebels – he was not quite certain why, beyond the vague intent to link up with them again more formally in due course. It was strange how actual realities and the perceived courses of events diverged.  
He explained his pursuit to Orac one day.  
‘An interesting subject. I have not researched urban myths and legends before,’ Orac replied.  
‘Probably they started to emerge a few weeks after the first cities,’ Avon said.  
‘We are unlikely to find out what myths we finally end up in,’ Vila said, half regretfully. ‘You should see some of the stories about you Avon that have emerged: the computer expert who can rearrange any computer – I can steal anything, but use it to help the poor. Even you have some Orac – a computer able to solve every problem…’  
‘Only a minor exaggeration…’  
‘Prove it.’

Several months later Vila found himself becoming restless. Work was reasonably profitable and enjoyable and he had the life he had dreamed of as a child, or those occasions when he thought about leaving the Liberator or Scorpio, but there was something missing.  
‘Orac,’ he said one day, ‘investigate other planets we could go to, same sort of work as present, but possibly in different fields.’  
‘Why?’ Avon asked. ‘I thought you were perfectly happy here.’  
‘Yes, but… All along I was looking for a place like this with work such as we have been doing and a companion or two – weren’t you?’  
Avon was reflective for a few moments and Vila let him remember Anna in peace. ‘So why ask Orac for somewhere else, which will turn out to be little different from here six months down the line?’ He was not dismissive, more exploratory of the idea: Vila sensed he was thinking in the same direction.  
‘Our services are only of so much use on any planet – and getting everything arranged and set up can be the most interesting part of them. Others are moving in to exploit the markets we have developed.’  
Avon nodded. ‘We should stay one step ahead of the competition. Or anybody who might recognise us and decide to collect our bounties.’ There was always that possibility still.  
‘Or they might wish to team up with us,’ Vila replied. ‘Wouldn’t object to having more colleagues, rather than just acquaintances.’ He caught Avon’s quickly masked expression, knew he had got the other man’s attention. ‘And a base like the one we took Gan that time. Or a ship-and-base of our own.’  
Vila knew from Avon’s smile that he had found the right approach.  
‘An interesting idea. We’ll have to consider the matter further.’  
‘I concur,’ Orac added.  
‘Make all arrangements then Orac.’ Vila looked at Avon again. ‘Let’s admit it – we’re bored.’ Avon did not protest. ‘We spent the best part of six, seven, years getting from the London to here, and we enjoyed most of it. I don’t want to look back many years hence and decide that those few years were the high point of my life.’  
‘I thought all you wanted was to live happily ever after, and half the time when we were doing things you wanted to escape the excitement.’  
‘All depends upon how you define happily ever after. And – the Federation’s finances are … in transition.’ That was evident from the various hints around. Moneys were being transferred to more useful projects: there was evidence of problems with the administration’s finances.  
‘Our services will be more useful then, possibly on a larger scale.’ Orac said.  
Avon laughed. ‘We have decided on our plan – now down to the hard work Vila.’  
Vila did not protest – Avon had accepted the idea.  
‘Can you please tell me what it is you want?’ Orac asked peevishly. ‘First you wish to go to another planet so you can admire the views there and repeat what you have been doing while the competition is undeveloped – which is reasonable, then you wish to create your own base to provide your services, which is equally valid, and a thoroughly sensible wish to explore the rest of the galaxy while selling your services and helping locate other sentient computers…’ Not quite what had been said, but the computer’s preferred interpretation or goals, and an acceptable additional pursuit.  
‘As you have been listening, provide us with a selection of people we could combine forces with, whether temporarily or permanently,’ Avon said. ‘Also a list of “interesting places” and suitable bases to go to – to be discussed before we go to them’  
‘It is more rational to establish the mobile research centre than a sequence of planetside equivalents.’  
‘Why Orac?’ Avon asked. Sometimes Orac’s suggestions were practical rather than self-interested.  
‘It involves less packing up and setting down, to use the conventional phrase. Extrapolating from the rapidly increased number of stories involving the rebels and Blake in particular discontent is rising, and the Federation may start to go into the transition stage in the near future.’  
‘Now Orac tells us,’ Vila complained. Now he thought about it the computer was right – he had ignored the mere repetition of near similar stories.  
‘When did this increase begin? Can you identify any particular causes – and what sparked interest in Blake?’ Avon asked.  
‘Servalan, as herself and as Sleer, has been looking for Blake for a long time. So were you after Star One. The Terminal project was aimed at you, but others picked up details. Others had their own reasons to look for Blake. People in general talk, especially as they become aware of a multitude of little problems, which are increasing as the Federation’s official money runs out. The situation becomes self-reinforcing, whether or not rebels are actually doing anything. But – there is a clear element of organisation in the stories, particularly those involving Roj Blake and also yourselves.’  
‘So who is making use of Blake’s ghost?’ Avon mused, half to himself. ‘What can you find out?’  
‘I cannot tell you at present. What do you wish me to concentrate on?’  
‘Arrange the crew, the mobile base – and possibly a planetside one for intermittent use, and an itinerary, pursing the topics just agreed on, and make sure we don’t end up unexpectedly in an unpleasant situation, all of which should be within your capacities.’ Vila said. ‘And have you located Servalan yet?’  
‘No. But intermittently blocking her fingerprints and retinal scans will make her life far more difficult than for someone of your social status and capabilities Vila.’ Which was why Vila had suggested it in the first place.  
‘Vila – you never explained why only intermittently,’ Avon said.  
‘If it is a total block, it gets corrected – and you do it intermittently enough so that they don’t guess that somebody is out to get them.’ And getting things to happen on days that Servalan found of significance – birthdays and suchlike – was a minor amusement.

Vila and Avon planned their next move carefully. Strangely Vila now found he half-wished to stay on this planet. The pleasure of familiarity, he decided – and he could always come back here and be accepted. That felt strange but pleasant – and he would see if he could repeat it.   
They left the crew until last. The ship they had adapted – which contained Slave, the Stardrive and the teleport – could be managed by the two of them with Orac, and they could thus afford to be selective about further crew. And, Vila thought to himself, perhaps they were secretly hoping that the rest of “their group” would turn up.  
Then it was time to decide when to leave. They had been perfectly open about doing so, and their claim that there was increasing competition in the markets they had defined so they were looking for new pastures was accepted. If they pursued the contacts and introductions they were being given they would have the basics for establishing a thriving business to serve as a cover for whatever else they were doing – and which would provide a fair amount of the financing.  
Which was more necessary than ever, given the increasingly and obviously parlous state of the Federation’s economic activity. There were also hints that the drug pacification programs were generally ceasing to work effectively – and not just because antidotes were being developed.

Then they were actually in the last days to leaving. Vila felt the same anticipation that he had had as a child before the New Year Festivity with all its celebrations and present giving. There would be times when he was more than willing to hold Avon to his vague “promise” that they would spend a few months as they had just done on another planet. By the time they finally decided to retire to a quiet life they would have a few more memories to look back on.  
Then came something which Vila had been half-expecting – the police at the door, with a request to go with them. Independent planet this might be, but it was still potentially subject to Federation pressure.  
Well, he thought as they went in the police transport, they had had rather longer than they might have expected at Gauda Prime, and it had been far better than the shabby hand-to-mouth existence flitting from one bolthole to another he might have expected.  
They were taken not to the police station but to the Presidential Palace: Vila remembered that there was an election campaign in progress. Well, at least they were going to have a high profile arrest.  
The President was instantly recognisable from his official portraits, and rose to greet them. The External Affairs Minister – also recognisable – and a couple of aides were also in attendance.  
‘You are Kerr Avon and Vila Restal?’  
No point in denying it.  
‘Yes.’  
Rather surprisingly they were offered drinks.  
‘We have been aware of who you were for some time.’  
‘We were planning to leave as you must be aware,’ Vila said nervously, in case a compromise was available. What had Tarrant said that time about a strategic withdrawal being running away with dignity? And if they were to be formally expelled they might be able to get some benefit out of it.  
‘As you have remained solvent, not causing disruption, and living quietly, you have not been disturbed.’ That sounded promising – but better not let hopes rise too much. The President, smiling, continued. ‘In fact it appears that your … off-world contacts have started coming here regularly and your activities are indirectly responsible for a certain amount of increased trade.’ Delicately put, Vila thought, and implicitly favourable.  
‘So you say,’ Avon replied.  
‘There is no bar on your staying here, should you wish to do so.’  
‘In spite of the bounty on our heads?’ Avon asked.  
The President smiled. ‘The President and cabinet are normally given … a Federation subsidy to ensure their loose cooperation with Federation policies. That has not been paid recently – nor has it been for a number of our equivalents elsewhere. So why would your bounty be paid?’  
‘Why have you called us here Sir?’ Vila asked. He would treat the President with respect as they appeared to be under no threat.  
‘There are some people who claim to be your friends, who wished to see you before you go.’  
The door opened behind Vila and Avon.  
‘I hear you are looking for a crew,’ a once familiar voice said. ‘Will you accept us?’  
Vila almost jumped out of his chair.  
‘Blake!’ Behind him were the three other members of the Scorpio crew, and a few of people Vila did not recognise.  
‘Yes... I quite like this bolthole you’ve found yourselves.’  
‘You are welcome to stay. Rights of residence could be arranged…’ the President began. That, Vila thought, might be a good idea: especially if they could arrange it on a few other planets as well. He indicated his approval to the President.  
‘We have a lot to talk about,’ Avon said, and then spoke softly to Blake. ‘You and I in particular.’  
‘Yes. Where shall we do it?’  
‘My ship or yours?’ Blake asked with a smile. Vila began to think everything might work out after all. Perhaps the best way for Blake and Avon to work together – once they had resolved the events on Gauda Prime – would be for them to operate apart but in tandem rather than directly together. He would suggest it as soon as Avon and Blake had had their standard flaming row.  
‘Before you leave,’ the President said, having assessed the situation. Vila and the others looked at him. ‘There is an election coming up…’  
Blake grinned. ‘Who else wants to be in the picture?’

Ten months later, when the Federation Administration admitted it would grant planets home rule as a way of eliminating unnecessarily expensive administrators, there were eight ships and getting on for fifty experts in the grouping organised by Avon and Blake. By the time Orac took over the management of the group as being the most suitable entity to co-ordinate the increasing numbers of ships, experts and crew and the several planets they operated from the Federation existed in name and purely practical aspects alone.

Orac enjoyed running the organisation, but it took some time to persuade Avon and the others to become directors in the company it was setting up. For some obscure reason the registration process would not allow a computer, however advanced, to be the director of a business or other organisation. Blake admitted that he would enjoy “resolving the issues raised” more than getting involved with developing the administrative regime – and as others enjoyed #that# he would not get in their way. He and Avon seemed to be getting along better now that they had the potential to go separate but interlinked paths, but, somewhat to Orac’s puzzlement, they tended to operate together.


End file.
